Good Guys Get Punched Too
by JessieJay13
Summary: Laura and Jackson have never really gotten along, but when a very drunk Jackson texts her for a pick-up, Laura finds that maybe her obnoxious little cousin is secretly a pretty good guy.


_**A/N: something a little different, just for fun. (and for the Laura Hale Appreciation Week event that i'm running on tumblr .com, just throwing that out there. ^_^**_

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 **Jackhole 1:21am [he y im realy druunk conme getm e?]**

If Laura hadn't already been up late studying and intending to stay up even later, she probably would've ignored it. Well, she probably would've forwarded the text to Lydia or Cora or even Derek - literally anyone who got along with Jackson better than she did, which was practically everyone. Why the hell was he texting her of all people?

But it was late and she'd been working for five solid hours and her brain was about to melt out of her skull. She needed a break anyway, so she closed her books, pulled on sweats and shoes, and grabbed her keys on the way out the door. A slew of douchey selfies on facebook earlier had placed Jackson and his friends at one of the local clubs, she headed in that direction.

 **Jackhole 1:24am [you still at Sinema?]**

 **Jackhole 1:27am [ys got puncched tho m yface hrtss]**

Laura stared at her phone for a minute, rereading it and making sure the iffy spelling still added up to all the same words. The reread came up with the same thing and honestly, she couldn't say she was surprised. There had been more than a few occasions in their lives where she had been very tempted to punch Jackson herself, and she reminded him of that frequently. Tonight he had been out with his own friends, though, so that was a little harder to believe.

 **Jackhole 1:31am [come out from, i'm almost there]**

She pulled up in front of the club to find Jackson slumped against the front of the building, one leg throw out in front of him and one pulled up in front of him to prop up his arm. He had one hand on his face. The other still had a drink in it, but he wasn't drinking it.

Laura finagled a parking space not too far away and then sauntered up to stand in front of him.

"You're not looking so hot, little cuz," she said, kicking his out-flung foot to get his attention. He groaned, dropping his hand. There was already a hell of a bruise forming on his jaw, visible even in the low colored lighting of the club's neon signage. He squinted up at her.

"I _always_ look hot," he slurred.

Laura snorted. "Like a hot mess, maybe." She kicked him again. "C'mon, get your ass up. I'm taking you home, you lush."

Jackson started struggling his way to his feet. He tried to brace himself on the wall, but he seemed to be having a lot of trouble managing it with one of his hands occupied. Laura rolled her eyes.

"Gimme that," she said, snatching the tumbler out of his hand. "If you're getting into bar fights now, then I don't think you need another drink. Who hit you anyway?"

"No," Jackson moaned, reaching out to try and take the drink back. With a tsk-ing sound, Laura held it up over his head, reveling for the millionth time since puberty that she was two inches taller than him and he couldn't get it back from her without jumping, which he didn't seem capable of in his current state of inebriation. "No, no, no," he said again. "Don't - _hic -_ don't drink that! No one should drink that one!"

"You don't get to tell me what to do," Laura said with a smirk. "I'm older. That makes me in charge of you. Always has, always will. If I want to drink this, I can, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Fine then," Jackson said, his shrug overbalancing him and sending him stumbling back into the wall, which he apparently decided was pretty comfortable since he stayed slumped over there. "Drink it if you want. Whatever - _hic_ \- just don't expect me to ssssave you. I already got punched over it once."

He mimed punching but nearly fell over again. Laura steadied him automatically, holding back a laugh. Jackson drunk wasn't nearly as coordinated as Jackson sober, and the haughty expression made the slurring twice as funny. Then his words caught up with her and she squinted down at the drink in her hand.

"Save me?" she asked. "What do you mean, save me? And somebody punched you over a drink?"

"You'd punch me for less," Jackson said, and Laura had to concede that point.

"Okay, what about the saving though?" she repeated.

Jackson tried to point at the glass, but he sort of missed and it took him a minute to refocus. "Spiked," he said. "Some dude put...I dunno, he put something in it. Tryna score. I saw - _hic_ \- I saw him do the thing and swiped it from the chick 'fore she could drink it and then dude got mad and - _hic_ \- "

He mimed punching again, this time sending himself crashing into Laura's shoulder. She shoved him back with a grunt and pinned him to the wall to keep him from sending them both to the ground from sheer drunken clumsiness. Once he was secured though, she gave him an appraising look.

"You fought a guy for trying to drug some girl?" she asked, torn between disbelief and the strong (and disconcerting) desire to hug him.

"Don't know why _I_ got thrown out too," Jackson said, head lolling back against the wall. " _He_ was the doucheturd. I was - _hic_ \- the good guy. Just 'cause I'm super fucking drunk doesn't mean I'm not the good guy! Dude was asking for a kick in the nards, so I kicked him in the nards! Shouldn't be allowed to repruce - repor - _hic_ \- reproduce anyway."

"Amen to that," Laura said. With great relish, she poured the spiked drink into the nearest storm gutter, letting the tumbler follow it down in a shower of broken glass. She returned to her cousin and dragged one of his arms over her shoulders, hauling him away from the wall with some difficulty. "So," she said, "was it worth getting punched?"

Jackson scoffed, the disdain undermined just a bit by the way he tripped over his own shoelace and nearly brought them both down again. "You call this a punch?" he asked. "Puh- _lease._ You should see the other guy."

"You socked him good, did you?"

"Damn straight," Jackson said. Then: "Well, not straight. I'm not straight. Really - _hic_ \- really not straight, man, I'm so fucking bi. Damn bi, that's what I am. I'm everybody's type and everybody is mine. 'Cept only the hot ones."

Laura smothered her laugh in the hand not keeping Jackson from sliding out of her grip into a puddle on the sidewalk. "So was the girl hot? The one you saved? Is that why you did it?"

Jackson fell against the side of her car, leaving the very complicated task of opening the door to her. He made the universal 'I don't know' sound, eyes slipping closed.

"Didn't really see her," he admitted. "Doesn't matter. It's a shitty thing. Guys don't get to do shitty things without getting punched."

"I thought he got a nard kick," Laura pointed out. "You were the one who got punched."

"I know!" Jackson cried. "What the fuck's up with that? Rude."

Laura leaned up against the car next to her obnoxious little cousin, a genuine smile on her face all for him for what was quite possibly the first time in either of their lives. "You know, cuz," she said. "I usually can't stand you, but to my complete and utter surprise, you are a tolerable drunk."

Jackson scoffed again. "I am an _awesome_ drunk," he said. "I'm a fucking pleasure."

Laura hummed her skepticism. "I'm gonna stick with tolerable. Now get in the car before I leave your drunk ass here. I still have studying to do."

She didn't actually get any more studying done, but only because Jackson started telling knock-knock jokes in the car ride back to his apartment and they were so hilarious bad that Laura made the executive decision that she could not let this opportunity pass her by. She stayed at Jackson's apartment for an hour, taking videos for blackmail purposes.

Then she tucked him into bed with a glass of water, a pack of aspirin, and a barf bucket at his bedside because she was a good fucking cousin like that and he had damn well better appreciate it.


End file.
